


After Thirty

by Aria_Faye



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bedtime conversations, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, sore skater feet, sweetness all around, that's literally it people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 19:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12895623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Faye/pseuds/Aria_Faye
Summary: Victor sighed. “I’m getting old, love.”“You are not,” Yuri was quick to say. When Victor scoffed, he said, “Well you’re not! I mean…you’re not even thirty yet. You’ve still got more than half your life ahead of you.”“Да, but I haven’t exactly planned that far." They lay in silence for a moment, and, just as Yuri found his eyelids drooping heavily, Victor said, “Have you? Planned beyond thirty?”“Of course,” Yuri replied, words slurred sleepily.





	After Thirty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cryingoverspilledvodka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryingoverspilledvodka/gifts).



> Here's a little thing I'd like to give to [cryingoverspilledvodka](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cryingoverspilledvodka/pseuds/cryingoverspilledvodka) as a fluffy congratulations for passing 70,000 hits and 4,000 kudos on her fic [The Boyfriend Experience](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9285461/chapters/21042680)! If you haven't read it, you're really missing out on what's quickly become something of a staple in the YOI fandom. It really is excellent, and I don't throw that around lightly! Go give her a few more hits and enjoy some quality content while you're at it!
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy this little fluffy thing!

Yuuri stretched under the blankets, long and sinewy. “Victorrr,” he groaned, shoving his face sleepily into the pillow beside his head and inadvertently mussing his hair in the process. “Come to bed, Vitya.”

When the light in the adjoining bathroom flicked off, Yuuri smiled to himself. _Finally,_ he thought as he listened to Victor’s soft footfalls cross the floor. The edge of the bed dipped, and Yuuri rolled over instinctively, nose almost bumping Victor’s knee as he crawled up beside him with an exhausted sigh. After a smile and a soft kiss to the edge of Yuuri’s mouth, Victor turned and lay down with his head by Yuuri’s feet, propping himself up on an elbow. “You’re getting impatient, сoлнышко,” he said, running a feather-light finger over the top of Yuuri’s foot, his wet hair dripping slowly onto the duvet.

Yuuri smiled; as skaters, both he and Victor had terrible feet. Layers upon layers of callouses, scars from old blisters, new ones beginning to form—their feet were always raw and red and aching from the cold and the pain of taking dozens of jumps at a time. That Victor liked to touch and sometimes even massage his awful feet was something Yuuri found incredibly sweet.

Victor pulled the edge of the blankets back so that Yuuri’s ugly, twisted feet were free, and he took one of them lightly, kissing it. “You worked so hard today,” he murmured as his thumbs went to work getting the knots out of the arches and ankles.

“So did you,” Yuuri reminded him.

With a quick wave, Victor dismissed it. “I could have pushed harder,” he said, though both he and Yuuri knew perfectly well that, at twenty-eight, overworking during practice could leave Victor severely injured. When Yuuri didn’t respond, Victor sighed. “I’m getting old, love.” He laughed bitterly, slowly kneading Yuuri’s heels.

“You are not,” Yuuri was quick to say. When Victor scoffed, he said, “Well you’re not! I mean…you’re not even thirty yet. You’ve still got more than half your life ahead of you.”

“Да, but I haven’t exactly planned that far,” he said, digging at an especially large knot and making Yuuri wince. “Sorry,” he muttered when Yuuri grabbed his foot in retaliation.

“S’alright, just ease up a bit,” Yuuri gritted.

Victor obediently pulled back, using less pressure and asking, “Better?”

“Much.”

They lay in silence for a moment, and, just as Yuuri found his eyelids drooping heavily—a product of his own exhaustion and Victor’s pleasant touches to the bottoms of his feet—Victor said, “Have you? Planned beyond thirty?”

“Of course,” Yuuri replied, words slurred sleepily.

Almost sheepishly, Victor glanced up at him. “May I ask—”

He didn’t need to finish his question for Yuuri to understand and smile fondly down at him. He snuggled down a bit further into the blankets and closed his eyes, picturing the story he told as he spoke it aloud to his fiancé. “After thirty, you, me, and Makkachin will be living somewhere together. We both will have retired from competitive skating.”

“Are we married?” Victor asked.

“Definitely.” Yuuri smiled at the thought. “Very happily married. You’re coaching still, since you’re amazing at it, and I’m giving lessons to kids at the local rink. Maybe choreographing on the side. We take Makka for walks every day, and we laugh when she chases the birds by the sea. Sometimes, we cook dinner together after we finish with our skaters for the day; you smear my face with sauce just so you can lick it off. We stay late at the rink most other nights, dancing on the ice together to whatever music we can find, and we steal as many kisses as we can between spins and lifts. At night, we curl up together, holding each other close like we might die if we let go.”

Victor hummed peacefully at Yuuri’s feet. He’d moved up to the ankles, stoking the Achilles gently. “That sounds lovely,” he admitted. “What else?”

“When you travel for competitions, I miss you, but you call every night, and I always watch your skaters. Besides, I get to see you when they show the kiss-and-cry, so it’s not so bad. And, when you come back home, I always welcome you back in the ways I know you like, taking all night sometimes to show you just how much I missed you.” Yuuri felt his face warm at his words, but Victor was staring absently at nothing, eyes pleasantly half-mast as he listened, so Yuuri continued. “We take hot showers together after long, cold days on the ice. You let me take forever washing your hair, because, even after thirty, I never get tired of how silky it feels. On winter afternoons, we share a blanket on the couch and binge-watch some show or other, your cold feet in my lap—” he brushed the underside of Victor’s toes as he spoke; his feet were rough and even worse off than Yuuri’s. “—and you keep your hand laced in mine. In summer, we throw the windows open and dance together to whatever the neighbor’s got playing. It doesn’t matter that we’re over thirty; your laugh still sounds like music to me, and your smile still lights my whole world.” After a second, Yuuri added, “And your body’s not half bad either,” with a blushing smirk.

At the end of the bed, Victor laughed, kissing Yuuri’s foot again. “That’s perfect,” he said. “Except for one thing.”

“Oh?”

Victor shifted, turning around again so that his face was beside Yuuri’s. “I’d never leave you at home when I travel.” He pressed a sweet kiss to Yuuri’s forehead, gathering him up in his arms. “You know I can’t live without my katsudon. I’d waste away to nothing.” He nuzzled his face into Yuuri’s hair, and Yuuri could have fallen asleep right then, snuggled tightly against victor’s chest.

Yuuri smiled into the sound of Victor’s heartbeat. “See? After thirty, it’s not so bad.”

“Да, not so bad.” Victor heaved a sigh that fluttered against Yuuri’s scalp. “Until my hair thins out to nothing and my face wrinkles like a piece of old paper.”

Yuuri swatted his shoulder. “Don’t be like that.”

“But it’s the truth.”

“Well, sure, but I’m going to age too,” Yuuri offered. “And it’s not like people would expect any less. Everybody ages.” He shrugged, running his fingers through Victor’s still-damp hair.

After a long moment, Victor said, “I’m sorry. Being in front of cameras from the time I was twelve hasn’t done much for my vanity.”

Yuuri just peppered his slightly rough jaw with kisses, slowly making his way to Victor’s lips, which he kissed deeply, trying to make a point. When he pulled away again, he looked Victor in the eyes and said seriously, “Regardless of your vanity, you’re stuck with me. I’m not marrying you for your looks. Not on their own, anyway. They’re really just fancy packaging.” He kissed him again, this time sliding a leg over his waist and straddling him. Victor’s hands immediately came up to his hips, caressing their way around to knead his ass with the same dexterity as his feet. Yuuri whined into his mouth before pulling away, eyeing Victor’s hands askance. “Not tonight, Vitya,” he reminded him gently.

“I know,” Victor replied with a dramatic, woebegone eye-roll. “But I think, as your fiancé, I’m entitled to a little innocent ass-grabbing,” he said. “Especially when your ass is as nice as it is.”

Yuuri arched a brow at him. “How nice?” he challenged, unable to resist flirting back as he folded his hands atop Victor’s chest and rested his chin on them coyly.

Abruptly, Victor sat up, dislodging Yuuri from his comfortable perch and instead hitching him close until their chests lay flush, noses almost touching. “Suffice it to say,” Victor returned, “that you literally have the ass of my dreams, сoлнышко. I knew I was in love the minute I saw you walk away.”

Yuuri laughed and kissed him, not protesting when Victor tongued lightly at his lips, his teeth, the roof of his mouth. He’d been with Victor long enough to know that, per Yuuri’s earlier assertion, Victor wasn’t looking for more than a kiss. But what a kiss it was. Yuuri heard himself moan before he could stop it, his hands rubbing down Victor’s chest entirely of their own accord. When Victor drew away, Yuuri almost regretted being too tired for more.

Victor smiled warmly, and Yuuri let himself fall into his chest, curling up in his lap. He felt his energy slowly fading again until he was a breath from sleep, wrapped sweetly in the soft rush of air flowing in and out of Victor’s lungs. With absent-minded fingers, Victor drew long, slow patterns on his shoulder, and Yuuri wondered how he could have possibly gotten so lucky.

“You know,” Victor murmured dispassionately, “I’ve been thinking of growing my hair out again.”

“Have you?” Yuuri responded sleepily, squirming closer to Victor’s chest.

“Mmmmm,” Victor said, the sound a rich, warm vibration against Yuuri’s cheek. “Would you like that?” he asked softly, voice carefully neutral.

Yuuri tilted his chin up and brushed his face lightly under Victor’s jaw. He reached up, pushing Victor’s silver fringe out of his face and said, “I’d love your hair at any length.” He made a show of thinking for a moment before commenting, “Although, I will point out that longer hair would be easier to hold. Easier to pull.” He shrugged. “Take that as you will,” he said glibly, though a distinct glint of Eros flashed in his eyes.

“Duly noted,” Victor said, bending to kiss him with a flirty smile. “Now go to sleep. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

Yuuri groaned. “Don’t remind me,” he sighed. “You’d think being engaged to your coach would get you a break.”

Victor laughed low in his chest. “What kind of coach would I be then?” he asked.

“A merciful one.”

“True,” Victor acknowledged. “But mercy doesn’t win gold medals. Yakov taught me that.” When Yuuri didn’t reply, he exhaled, long and sleepy. “Tell you what:  We can dance a while together at the end of practice if you work hard. And you’ll need to really push, seeing as our deal still stands—we don’t get married unt—”

“—until I win gold, yeah, I know.” Yuuri sighed again, cursing himself for agreeing to those terms in the first place. In his defense, he hadn’t realized just how serious Victor had been about it until it was too late.

Carefully, Victor scooted down, laying back again with Yuuri held close. He buried his face in Yuuri’s hair. “Please win gold,” he whispered.

Yuuri’s eyes darted up at him. “W—what?”

“Please beat me, Yuuri,” Victor told him. “Please win gold. I’m coaching you for it, but I also won’t be pulling any punches as a competitor. I won’t make it easy for you. But I want you to beat me.”

Yuuri blinked. “Why?” he managed quietly. Nobody had bumped Victor off the top tier of the podium in years. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. “I mean…are you asking as my coach, or…”

“I want to marry you,” Victor said, decisive. “Of course, being a gold medal coach would be nice and all, but—” he shrugged. “I really want to get married. To you. So please, сoлнышкo…win for me.” He pressed a kiss to the sensitive space behind Yuuri’s ear, and Yuuri melted. When Victor murmured an affectionate string of Russian that Yuuri understood all too well into his neck, Yuuri wished more than anything that he could somehow get closer to Victor—to burrow inside his skin and make a home beside his heart.

Since he would have to content himself with curling against his side and entwining their legs, Yuuri said, “I’ll try my hardest. And I love you too, Vitya.”

Victor hummed in response, his breathing slowly steadying, growing even like waves lapping at the shore of the beach in Hasetsu. Yuuri, however, was busy thinking about something Victor had mentioned earlier. “You know, Victor,” Yuuri said, toying absently with his fiancé’s shirt, “if you grow your hair out, you might look younger. Not to mention how good it would look when we pair skate. Very androgynous.”

“You think?” Victor asked thickly, voice heavy and half-asleep.

“Yeah, I do.” Yuuri kissed his collarbone. “Just something to consider.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [Tumblr](https://aria-faye.tumblr.com/)! I'm always taking prompts and requests!


End file.
